


so stumblest on her counsel

by passing-fanciful (kageygirl)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 17:56:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2397521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageygirl/pseuds/passing-fanciful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If these are to be her last words, he <i>will</i> have them, good form be damned. </p>
<p>Based on spoilers for 4x02.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so stumblest on her counsel

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](http://feathers-and-hooks.tumblr.com/post/98901094569/what-if-while-emmas-having-a-brotp-moment-with).

_You were telling me about Killian._

_Was I? 'Cause that's not how I remember it._

"Nor I, love." He smiles briefly at the sarcasm in her voice--even as friendly as she's gotten with the young queen in a short while, his Swan doesn't share her feelings lightly. 

The conversation between the two of them has been going on for a little while--or, at least, the device Killian holds has been carrying it to him for that long. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't interrupt--David explained it to him, that the device can only send sound one way at a time. With Emma's device malfunctioning, they've no way to speak to her--and it must be a malfunction, for he knows his Swan wouldn't have this conversation knowing she'd an audience.

David and the dwarves are using their marvelous pickaxes to attempt to break through the ice wall, itself strengthened by magic. It's a task far better suited to two hands than one, and so Killian leans against the hood of David's truck, listening in as they talk.

David showed him how to lower the volume, so that their voices don't carry so far in the crisp night air. He'd left the device in Killian's hands, with a look and a nod both laden with meaning.

_I believe you were going to,_ the queen says, pleasantly enough, with a hint of command that reminds him of Emma's mother. He approves; if he cannot be the one to speak to her, then he is grateful to this Elsa for doing what she can to keep Emma awake and aware. 

He imagines Emma shaking her head in the pause that follows. _I'm not sure what to say about him._

_Well, is he handsome?_

_Yeah. Yeah, he is--almost as handsome as he thinks he is._

"Oi," he murmurs, and thinks about how he'd make her pay for that, were she here with him.

He closes his eyes briefly. No, how he _will_ make her pay, _when_ she's here with him.

(For her--because of her--he will hold tight to hope.)

(The alternative is to lose himself to panic and fear, but in this time and this place, he cannot. He _will not_.)

_Is he kind?_

There's a pause, and Killian shifts the device closer to his ear, the better to hear her. _That's… not the first word I would describe him,_ she says, but he hears in her consideration, not condemnation.

_He's not cruel, is he?_ the queen asks, and the concern in her voice doesn't offend him at all; he's glad that Emma has a defender in this woman she's just met. 

(He understands the urge.)

_No!_ Emma says. _No. Killian, he's… brave. Really brave._ The sound that follows might be a laugh (he tries not to dwell on the shortness of her breath). _Though the word he'd use is 'dashing.'_

"And don't you forget it," he breathes, enjoying the thought of her rolling her eyes at him for saying so, with that tiny smile she's getting worse and worse at hiding.

_And he can be really sweet,_ she says, softly, and he stills.

It's not the sort of thing he's been called in a very long time, long enough that he can't remember if anyone ever did.

_Don't tell him I said that, though. It'll mess with his image. He's a pirate._

Pirate enough that he can't leave them to their privacy. But he can't take the chance--his Swan is in deadly danger; for all that their conversation is light, he can hear the strain in her voice, the effort it's taking her to respond. And if these are to be her last words, he _will_ have them, good form be damned.

_A pirate? Really?_

_Not--like that. He's not--he's not **bad**. Not anymore._

_You **like** that he's a pirate._

_Maybe._

He can all but see the smile he hears in her voice--tight-lipped, secret, but her eyes must betray her mirth. He shuts his own eyes again tightly for a moment, takes a few deep breaths.

He _will_ see that smile again.

(He _must_.)

_What else?_

_What else what?_

_What else do you like about him?_

_I don't--_

Emma breaks off coughing, a jagged, miserable sound that makes Killian's own chest tighten. When she speaks again, her voice is quiet, a bit rough.

_He's always there for me. No matter what, I know he'll be there. I--haven't had that before._

There's a soft noise, and then he can hear the queen more easily; she must have moved closer to Emma. _I understand. That's why I have to find Anna. She's never given up on me, and I won't give up on her._

Another cough, shorter, but it tears a piece of him away, all the same. _Killian... he gave up everything to save me. **Everything.**_

_You were more important to him than anything else._

_Yeah._

"Aye," he whispers, and bows his head. 

_And how do you feel about him?_

There's a longer pause this time, long enough for Killian to grow tense--but he dares not even move, lest he miss what she says.

_Emma?_ the queen asks, and he's gripped with an entirely different kind of anxiety.

After an eternity, she speaks (and he can breathe again). _He thinks we need to take advantage of the quiet moments._

_What do you think?_

There's a faint sound, as of movement, and then… _I don't know. I just…_

Her voice is labored--pained--and terribly small.

_I just want to see him again._

Killian nearly bites through his lip at the fresh wave of anguish that sweeps across him.

He hears another sound, louder, and the queen asks, sharply, _Emma?_

There's a loud, unnatural squawk, and sound ceases to issue from the device. Killian jams his thumb down hard on the talk button, his voice harsh. "Swan?"

He barely notices David dropping his pickaxe and darting over to him, for there's no response, not even the faint susurrus he's grown accustomed to from the device. He tries again. "Emma?"

His voice breaks, and he glances up at David. "The cold must have knocked out her walkie," David says, his own voice thick.

David has the look of a man on the edge of a dark precipice, keeping himself from looking down with an iron effort of will. Killian sets his jaw, and follows the prince's example.

"Aye," he says, and gives a sharp nod, though he's all but forgotten how to _move_. "She'll be fine."

* * *

In the end, it's Elsa's own magic that drops the wall. Everything beyond that is a blur of noise and movement, but now Killian's the one who's frozen, caught between the last moment when everything might turn out all right, and the next, when--

He sees her face--pale, sickly, _alive_ \--and time starts moving again.

(She's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.)

"Killian?" she says, her hands coming up to frame his face. Her hands are so cold that they _burn_ , but it's the look in her eyes that makes him ache, for he knows it all too well.

It's the look of hope fulfilled, beyond all reasonable expectation.

( _I just want to see him again._ )

"I'm here, love," he says, letting her look her fill, his hand splayed over her back to keep her close. "I'm here."


End file.
